


his hand (in mine)

by musingsofaretiredunicorn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Draco teaches potions, Flying Instructor Harry Potter, Hand Massage, Hands, Humor, M/M, Professor Draco Malfoy, Professor Harry Potter, Secret Santa, Smart Harry, but does not mind it one bit ;), but he gets it together eventually, draco is a bit of a disaster, he also does tutoring sessions for the smol children who struggle w flying, of course, this turned into so much hands oh god, who is Aware of what Draco is doing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:34:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28168557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musingsofaretiredunicorn/pseuds/musingsofaretiredunicorn
Summary: Draco makes an attempt at Secret Santa. He’s not quite clear on the details.Aiming for nonchalance, Draco says, “Oh, look. You’ve finally got something to help those dreadfully chapped hands.” He wants to feel good about that delivery, but he doesn’t.Harry squints at him. “Yes, Malfoy, thank you, Malfoy, I’m forever in your debt, Malfoy.”
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 4
Kudos: 50
Collections: Harry/Draco Owlpost 2020





	his hand (in mine)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Darkravenwrote](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkravenwrote/gifts).



> darkravenwrote: I had so much fun stretching my writing muscles for this, after a long break! I tried to include as many of your likes as possible in this thing that was supposed to be a drabble but which clearly got away from me XD I hope you enjoy, and that you have a wonderful December, full of holiday cheer!!
> 
> to [hidey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hideyseek): thank u for the initial brainstorming session(s) and for the eventual editing session, and for the bants sprinkled in throughout. thank u also for making me read the essay about shitty first drafts, bc i Needed that. this fic,, simply would not be what it is without your presence (in the editing process, but also in my life), for which i am _deeply_ grateful. among other things about you, I love your writing!brain <3
> 
> also, _massive_ thanks to the mods for running this fest for us all, and for their patience with my three and a half (?) extensions on this >.>

Draco startles as Harry sits down next to him on the bench.

Harry smirks at him. “I understand the nostalgic appeal of watching Quidditch practice, but what’s so fun about watching me tutor a bunch of wobbly kids?”

“Oh, you know.” Draco realizes he doesn’t have an excuse ready. He starts again, “It’s, you know. It’s good to keep tabs on how the students are doing, outside of their classes?” He hadn’t meant that to be a question.

Harry makes a skeptical noise. “And here was me thinking you were looking to pick up some flying tips.” He crosses his legs and leans back, bracing his elbows on the previous row of benches. “You know, the lesson’s been over for twenty minutes.”

Draco, already pink from the cold seeping in around his hours-old warming charm, flushes further. “Oh. Well.” 

Really, he had been there to watch Harry interact with the students. Draco stares out at the frost-covered field, determined not to reveal anything. He can feel Harry looking at him.

There’s no way Harry knows how attractive he is when he’s working with the students. He’s unspeakably gentle with the tiny first-years—especially the most hopeless ones who still can’t quite get the hang of getting the broom to leave the ground, much less with them on it. He moves so patiently between them on foot, not wanting to intimidate them with his own impeccable form. It’s not like any of them are flying more than a few feet off the ground yet, anyway.

The scraping sound of a lid being twisted open and shut draws Draco from what is certainly not another daydream. Harry’s fiddling with the small glass pot of homemade hand salve that Draco had left at his place setting at breakfast. It hadn’t been hard to slip into the Great Hall before Harry, he’s usually on his second cup of tea by the time Harry shuffles in.

Aiming for nonchalance, Draco says, “Oh, look. You’ve finally got something to help those dreadfully chapped hands.” He wants to feel good about that delivery, but he doesn’t.

Harry squints at him. “Yes, Malfoy, thank you, Malfoy, I’m forever in your debt, Malfoy,” he says, flatly. Harry grins expectantly, but when Draco is silent, he adds ruefully, “I know I should wear gloves when I fly, but I don’t like to. It makes my hands feel funny.”

Draco can feel his ears heating up, and he blurts, “It wasn’t me!”

“Oh, come on,” Harry scoffs, eyebrows furrowed. “Brewing is your whole thing and you’ve smelt like whatever these herbs are all last week.” He blushes slightly, and pokes at the label. “Also, the brand on the label is an _anagram for your name._ Surely I was meant to know it was from you?”

Draco splutters—Harry knows what he smells like?—then rallies, gathering the famous Malfoy haughtiness around him. “It’s not _nice_ to try to reveal your Secret Santa.”

Harry stares at him. “Secret Santa? Where did you hear about that?”

Draco waves a hand. “It’s in the _name_ , Potter! _Secret_ Santa. You give a gift, like Santa, but it’s a secret. Like the Statute of Secrecy, but for Muggles! It’s in _all_ the Muggle magazines– _What?_ ” 

Harry’s grinning at him. “You read Muggle magazines?”

Draco sniffs. “Sometimes.” He brushes at a bit of snow off his cuff. “It’s nice to read about gossip that doesn’t involve me.”

“Alright,” says Harry slowly. He clears his throat, passes the jar from hand to hand for a moment, and then brandishes it. “I guess now would be a good time to try this out.”

He unscrews the lid and scoops out nearly a full tablespoon.

“Potter!” Draco snaps in dismay. Harry freezes. Draco continues more gently, “you really ought to use a smaller amount—it goes a long way if you rub it in properly.”

“Really?” Harry asks. He sounds curious, but there’s something else in his expression that Draco can’t quite suss out.

“Well, it’s fine that you don’t know the technique,” Draco tells him. “Just– let me show you?” He’s already reaching for the jar.

Harry holds it out, and Draco takes it, then carefully scrapes most of the dollop on Harry’s hand back into the jar. He places it on the bench between them.

Draco looks up at Harry, who catches his eye and nods. They’re equally pink-cheeked, now. Draco takes one of Harry’s hands between both of his, and firmly smooths the salve in. His thumbs glide across Harry’s palm, working the salve in and working the tension out.

In for a Knut, in for a Galleon, he figures, and digs his knuckle into the knot of tension at the base of Harry’s thumb. Harry gasps softly.

Draco smiles at the surprised expression on Harry’s face. “First hand massage? Your hands are incredibly tense—the salve will help with that, if you take care. Just make sure to keep your hands relaxed while you rub it in.”

Harry just hums in response, his eyes slipping closed. Draco sets Harry’s hand gently down and takes his other hand.

“Or,” Harry mumbles softly, “You could keep helping me apply it after my tutoring sessions, since you’re so keen on watching them.”

Draco blushes again, but doesn’t mind as much as he had before.

“Well, I suppose the salve does only work optimally with expert application,” Draco says, momentarily embarrassed. He squeezes Harry’s hand, then says, “The gift would be incomplete, really, without my help in using it properly.”

He looks up at Harry to see his reaction. Harry’s eyes are open again; they’re crinkled at the edges, but his mouth is pursed in the way that Draco has learnt means Harry is moments away from all-out laughter.

“Oh, certainly.” Harry drawls, pulling his hand away and picking up the jar. “I wouldn’t want to waste the talents of the masterful brewers at–” He squints down at the label, then raises his eyebrows at Draco. “Rodac Floyam?”

Draco sniffs, mock-haughty. “Look, if an anagram was good enough for the Dark Lord, it’s good enough for me.”

Harry laughs, bright and incredulous in the crisp air. After a moment, Draco joins him.

When the hilarity dwindles, Draco unfolds himself from the bench and says, reluctantly, “Well, I should probably stop avoiding the appalling amount of marking that’s due tomorrow evening. Merlin’s arse, it’ll take me hours.” He stumbles to a stop and swallows, uncertain in the frigid air beyond the little bubble of warmth they’d created.

“Walk me back?” Draco asks.

Harry’s eyes crinkle, fond and knowing. He nods.

And if Draco’s hand happens to tangle with Harry’s as they walk back to the castle, well. That’s just to verify that the salve is absorbing properly.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are most welcome!
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](https://harryandhislittledragon.tumblr.com) :D


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